Into the Darkness

Here are the quiet momentsthe whispering thoughtseatingat your wayward souldevouring your being.Here are the lingering queriescloudingyour sense of directionin a darkening hazesuggesting all that you lack.Here are the patches of darknessthe voids where light...

Habitual

you   wake   themorning     findits     seeds     inyour         palmnow   you  mustscrape ...

Poppy Cult

I hold a catastrophe in my hands.I make a tight cup to stop it struggling out.It builds panic for an army marching,frightened boys fake bravery,their tears parachuting to death.Missiles of burning birthday balloonscelebrate this cult of our making,rivers of blood...

A hankering for the truth

Amid parallel running tracksin the north of England,we workers saw their endingas appurtenances in railway yards.I asked the most forthright,was this a truth then?His answer “I don’t know, Mate.”And I loved him for it. Colin James has a couple of...

Threads

Heartstring (Merriam Webster)noun nheart· string | \ ˈhärt-ˌstriŋ \ Definition of heartstring1: obsolete: a nerve once believed to sustain the heart2: the deepest emotions or affections —usually used in plural That movie really pulls at your heartstrings. If your...

Helicopter

Allison DeDecker Before becoming a parentI never realizedhow much hurt is causedin trying to prevent it;how guarding against traumacreates its ownhow watchful eyes can blinkto police searchlights aimingto capture and containinstead of protect and servehow easily a...

In the grounds

Her coffeecould wake the dead,quite literally.This secret menu was real.The body lay on three tablespushed togetherwhile his father sipped mint teain a corner after hours.The recipe, simple:too many beansdark, oilycrushed by screaming burrswater, too hotin an antique...

Isolated Piano

His notes smell of cognac—dark old woodand finesse. The tip-snifter rests on tophis home spinet. Was a time he wouldfill it with warm, brown liquid, then practice.Now it holds dust and matchbooks. Still, he couldsmell brandy as he plunked black keys. Dark woodstill...

Sixteen, doing buggies at the Shop-n-Save

gaze beyond the bridgesas the early evening sundips into the tailof the Ohio river two cloud-making smoke stackspuff awaya rippled reflection of it allin the iridescent flowsmell of fried fishwafts upfrom the fast-food jointacross the parking lotmixes inwith the...